


a working agreement

by architecture_in_f1ll0ry



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Bending (Avatar), Dildos, F/F, PWP, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/architecture_in_f1ll0ry/pseuds/architecture_in_f1ll0ry
Summary: A tale of two horny, emotionally unavailable CEOs, working out their differences the way they know best.
Relationships: Kuvira/Asami Sato
Comments: 15
Kudos: 129





	a working agreement

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a simple lesbian, I see a metal core dildo prompt and my brain lights up like a goddamn christmas tree

Kuvira’s phone beeps once before Zhu Li’s slightly panicked voice filters through the speaker, talking rapidly.

“Ms. Beifong, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop her—“

Kuvira jabs the button, cutting her off, her tone brisk. “Who?”

“Miss Sato.” Kuvira’s irritation instantly slides away, and she lifts an eyebrow as her door bursts open, admitting a furious-looking Asami, looking every bit like the towering, imposing child prodigy CEO every breathless _Entrepreneur, Fortune,_ and _Business Insider_ 35 Under 35 list proclaims her to be. She slams the door shut behind her and stalks over to Kuvira’s desk, stilettos clicking across the marble floor until the sound is absorbed in thick carpet. Her steps don’t falter, scarlet lips pulled back in a snarl as she slams a stack of files in front of Kuvira.

“Ma’am, do you want me to—” Zhu Li is still saying, and Kuvira doesn’t take her eyes off Asami as she presses the button to respond, her tone firm.

“Ms. Sato and I are not to be disturbed. That will be all.”

“Yes, m—.” 

Kuvira switches off the phone and steeples her fingers, widening her legs beneath her desk as she tilts back in her chair and twists in it slightly from side to side, eyes taking Asami’s long, curvy frame. She’s in a black silk blouse and cream-colored pencil skirt, her thick, gently curled hair piled over one shoulder. She glances down in lazy curiosity, then looks back up at Asami, who’s still glaring at her. “I, too, have a printer. Want to see?”

“Shut up. What the fuck is this, Kuvira?” Asami’s eyes blaze as she comes even closer, bracing her hands against the edge of her desk, the tangy-sweet smell of her perfume and something deeper beneath assailing Kuvira’s senses, making her nose flare. Asami’s eyes narrow as she watches Kuvira’s lids grow heavier, her smirk widen. “Don’t—don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Asami exhales sharply, tapping the tip of her index finger briskly atop the stack of files she’d brought. “We had an _agreement.”_

“An agreement?” Kuvira echoes, amused. She tilts her head, regards Asami with a slight squint. “Refresh my memory.”

“Don’t test me,” Asami says low, color rising in her cheeks. “I’m not the stupid rich girl you think I am.”

Kuvira grins before she can help herself, leaning back in her seat and bringing the files with her. “Oh, I know you’re not stupid,” she murmurs as she flips through, then tosses them aside again. “Naive, maybe.”

Asami nods slowly, her lips curling up into a sharp, knowing smile. “Whatever game you think this is, you’re not going to win.”

Kuvira laughs out loud, scooting back to stand, taking pleasure in the way Asami’s eyes widen slightly at the unexpected movement. She walks slowly around the desk, undoing the buttons at her wrist, briskly rolling up her sleeves—not missing the way Asami’s gaze sweeps from her shoulders downward, lingering on her chest, the way her suit trousers cling to her muscled thighs and ass. Kuvira is sure to stand rather closer to her than necessary, pleased when Asami’s breath hitches, half-turning to face her with an expression that aims for haughty and constrained but falls somewhere closer to begrudgingly enthralled.

Kuvira’s fingers find Asami’s where one hand is still tensed against her desk, sliding over the smooth skin, unsurprised when she snatches it away. “I don’t play games.”

“That’s all you do,” Asami contradicts in an aggrieved whisper, her face flushed, embarrassed. “Case in point.”

“Hmm.” Kuvira just steps closer, waiting for an actual refusal, chuckling in smug satisfaction when Asami just sways into her instead, tilting her head automatically as Kuvira licks a broad stripe up the line of her neck. “And this is me losing, right?” It’s always like this; the pattern is somewhat hilarious in its regularity, yet somehow manages to feel new every single time. Perhaps because Asami’s anger only seems to flare hotter with each hurried assignation: never graduating beyond some wholly inappropriate location and time, their entanglement entirely too risky and too professionally precarious to subject to the mundanities of anything approaching a normal courtship.

Besides, Kuvira has little interest in a relationship, and from what she’s seen and heard, Asami feels similarly. So they do this, instead: Kuvira fisting a rough hair into Asami’s hair and pulling her down until their lips are a millimeter apart, their breaths mingling deliciously. 

“You should have just _said_ you wanted to renegotiate,” Asami breathes, struggling to maintain a hold on her composure, stubborn to the very last. It makes Kuvira’s blood boil in irritation and arousal both, and her fingers tighten in the dark strands, which makes Asami’s eyes flash in anger and slight pain, biting her lip against a moan. 

Kuvira pushes her fully against the desk until Asami has no choice but to be moved, fingers clenching against Kuvira’s shoulders as she sits, papers sliding and wrinkling as she does. Kuvira shoves her skirt upward, stepping between her thighs to encourage them to open further, no longer hampered by the restrictive clothing. Her hand immediately insinuates beneath, leaning in to brush her lips against Asami’s mouth as she lets her fingertips idly stroke her blazing heat. “No more talking now.”

“You can’t just—” Asami begins, then swallows, breathing faster against Kuvira’s jaw, eyes falling shut as Kuvira’s touch becomes more bold, scratching lightly, so lightly, up and down the line of her slit, the sensation maddeningly muted through her tights. “Stop, I—”

“You want me to stop?” Kuvira murmurs, removing her fingers, but Asami whines below her breath, chest rising and falling as her eyes snap open again, pupils nearly subsumed in black as she looks at Kuvira, then licks her lips. Shakes her head.

Kuvira hums, pleased, bracing herself against her other arm where it’s planted on the desk beside Asami, moving in to nose against the rise of her ear, then speaking directly into it. “Say it.”

“Fuck you,” Asami bites out, even as her legs open wider, her hands clench in Kuvira’s waist to anchor herself, fingers digging into skin.

“Not today, sweetheart.” Kuvira licks along her bottom lip, smiling when Asami gives a quivery little moan, now pushing into Kuvira’s hand. Her wetness is already soaking through the thin nylon, which—Kuvira glances down then looks back up at Asami, raising a questioning eyebrow. “What did you imagine, when you picked out these stockings to wear today, with _nothing_ underneath?” she questions, rubbing slow circles against her clit, licking around the lobe of her ear. “Is that why you stormed in here, traumatizing my assistant? That desperate for me, huh?”

“I thought—you said—no more talking,” Asami huffs, leaning back further as she submits to Kuvira’s torturously slow caresses. Then she gives a cry of shocked dismay when Kuvira grips the seam of the stockings and wrenches them apart, ripping a large hole that leaves Asami completely exposed. “Fuck!”

Kuvira makes a lazy waving motion with her hand and one of her drawers flies obediently open. She curls her fingers as she steps away from between Asami’s thighs, summoning a long, thickly curved black dildo from its depths, bringing it to hover teasingly against Asami’s slick folds. When she shudders, gazing up and over at Kuvira with burning eyes, biting her lip, Kuvira threads a rough hair into her hair once more as she leans over to speak directly against Asami’s mouth. “You’re not fooling anyone, Ms. Sato.” She continues the languid motion of her fingers, directing the dildo to simply slide along Asami’s sex, gently up and down, stroking against her clit and slipping down to glance against her hole, and then back again, making her calf muscles clench as she braces herself on her tiptoes, struggling to catch her breath. “Tell the truth.”

Asami’s mouth works silently for a moment, and then she releases a shocked gasp that bleeds into a moan when the fat tip begins to press inside—slowly, slowly. “The truth?” she finally bites out, managing a sardonic smile, despite the bright flush in her skin, the way her hands cling for dear life to the desk below her, as if afraid she’ll shoot into the stratosphere otherwise. “The truth is, _mmph—!”_ Asami’s eyes flash as Kuvira smacks a hand over her mouth, shutting her up, and then moans loudly against her palm, spine arching and legs straining open as the dildo drives its way inside. Unhurried, constant, rocking in and filling her up until its thick length is all she can feel, displacing every other thought and hesitation. 

Kuvira’s hand covering her mouth becomes two fingers inside of it, gliding across her tongue, fucking in and out, a cruel mimicry of what Asami squirms to encourage lower down, her breaths coming heavy and hot against Kuvira’s hand. She bites down in frustration, pulling a hiss of pain from Kuvira, prompting her to grip at Asami’s chin a little roughly, turning her head to glare at her, gesturing so that the dildo begins its slow, slow journey back out. Kuvira swallows Asami’s shaky moan, licking into her mouth, nipping her tongue, then sucking on it. And then she pulls away, paying no attention to Asami’s needy whine at the kiss coming to such an abrupt end.

“Quiet,” Kuvira chides with a grin, biting Asami’s jaw as the metal cored-cock slides home again, the items and papers continuing to crumple and be knocked over at Asami’s jerky movements. “You’re always so fucking loud.”

_“Oh god,”_ Asami gasps, not listening, not caring, her head thrown back as the slight twist of Kuvira’s wrist increases the pace of the dildo’s thrusts. Her mouth gapes open wider as she drops fully back against the wood, elbows braced as her fingers scrabble for purchase, one of her red-bottomed heels clunking against the floor. Her breathless, rhythmic moans are unmistakable at this point, and Kuvira feels a fresh shock of lust pulse through her at the thought, knowing anybody who happens to pass by will be able to divine exactly what’s happening in her office, what happens nearly every time the head of their biggest rival company comes marching self-righteously in, and all the tongue wagging means nothing when Kuvira is the boss, anyway. 

She growls below her breath at the thought, looking down at a panting, desperate Asami, feeling lit from within at the evidence of her own power, at the other woman’s total surrender. She gropes boldly at one of Asami’s breasts, leaning in to just breathe against her ear as she pinches a nipple through the layers of clothing. As expected, Asami’s back curves again as she pushes into Kuvira’s touch with a halting cry, and bites her lip hard when Kuvira punishes her by closing her fist in midair, making the dildo’s girth expand ever so slightly.

“Hhnnn— _Kuvira,”_ Asami whimpers, eyes slamming shut, and then opening again almost immediately when Kuvira pulls away and sits in one of the chairs facing her desk, adopting her previously slouched position. “What—“

“No no, I didn’t say you could talk,” Kuvira interrupts smoothly, making the dildo pick up speed once more, the sound of Asami’s slickness filling the otherwise hushed office, each thrust punctuated by her increasingly frantic moans. She rests her chin on her palm, elbow pressed into the arm of the chair, legs crossed as she watches Asami writhe, the picture of debauchery with her skirt hiked up to her waist, legs wide open, hair wild as she’s taken apart. It’s an exquisite sight, one that Kuvira wishes she could capture and immortalize, but Asami is still frustratingly (predictably) resistant to the idea, so simply studying her like this will have to do, for now.

She continues to idly bend the metal inside: playing with the depth of the thrusts, the twist of the shaft, slowing up and speeding it down; bringing Asami to the edge and then jerking her back, watching Asami watch her until she can’t anymore, eyes rolling upwards to white, wanton and overcome.

“Kuvira. I.” The other shoe tumbles to the ground, and Asami pants loudly, her back thumping fully against the desk as she loses herself in her pleasure, bringing her hands up to play with her own nipples. “I, I need—”

Kuvira drops her arm and uncrosses her legs, leaning forward to look more closely at Asami’s face. “Yes?”

Asami whines, limbs trembling, and Kuvira has to clench her jaw to stop herself from springing from her chair to replace the dildo with her fingers. Asami’s voice is wrecked when she speaks, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“M’close.” 

“Are you?”

_“Please.”_ She’s barely gotten the word out before Kuvira snaps her fingers, activating the dildo’s vibration, and then she’s hurtling upwards with a wild gasp, leaking steadily onto the very files she’d flung into Kuvira’s desk not too long ago.

“You can come now,” Kuvira chuckles, biting her lip and shifting in her seat as Asami does just that, her entire body freezing in place as her cunt visibly pulses over and over, sucking the dildo even further in, the muscles in her thighs flexed tight, knuckles clenched to white as even more pens and paper clips and a stapler falls onto the floor. And then Kuvira can’t wait a second longer, propelling herself out of her chair to kneel at her desk, gripping Asami’s knees and pulling her forward until her ass is at the very edge, granting her easier access. Asami shakes and keens softly as Kuvira pulls the dildo out—Asami’s dripping onto the maple colored wood, thick streaks making their way down the grain—and then drops it, uncaring, onto the other chair, before moving in to lick greedily at Asami’s still-pulsing hole, her tongue hot and quick.

“Oh fuck _oh fuck,_ ohhhh shit—!” Asami’s fingers tangle in Kuvira’s hair roughly, making a mess of what was once a very neat bun, but she doesn’t care because Asami is so gorgeously wet and open beneath her tongue, pushing into her touch with abandon. Kuvira moans at the thick, heady scent as she laves her plump lips, gripping Asami’s thighs open as they quiver against her shoulders, threaten to clench shut against her ears. Lets Asami direct the pace now, following the unsubtle grip of her hands as she fucks against Kuvira’s face, smearing wetness all around her mouth. “Fucking— _yes,_ oh my GOD...” Another dress down from HR is imminent, Kuvira is almost certain, but she doesn’t give a shit about that right now. Asami is gone, her nails making serious indentations in Kuvira’s scalp as her hips jerk upward hungrily. “Like that, just like that, just—”

Kuvira’s eyes water at the way her hair is suddenly yanked hard when Asami plateaus again, and again, pulsing into Kuvira’s mouth and spilling down her chin with loud, gasping sobs. She has a slight ache in her neck by the time Asami relinquishes her hold, slumping back while tiny tremors continue to rocket through her body, one arm pressed against her glowing face. 

Kuvira rises to her feet, regarding Asami’s prone, fucked out form with satisfaction as she releases her hair from its enclosure, shaking it loose as she leans over Asami, grinning at the way she just smiles dazedly back. 

“You were saying something about an agreement?”

“Fuck you,” Asami sighs, hooking a finger into the top of Kuvira’s shirt and tugging her down for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, tasting herself. She reaches downward, brushing her knuckles against Kuvira’s crotch, humming interestedly when Kuvira hisses, pressing into the touch before angling her hips away. 

“I have a three o’clock.”

“How wet are you right now?”

Kuvira moans helplessly into Asami’s mouth as her hand finds the juncture of her thighs once more, cupping her heat and rubbing. Asami is right, unfortunately, but there’s not much she can do about it now. With effort, she pulls away again, rolling her sleeves back down, taking a few deep, steadying breaths as she glances at the clock, then at the phone blinking silently on her desk. Asami follows the line of her gaze, and then sighs.

“Later,” Kuvira promises, as Asami pushes herself off her desk, stepping nimbly over the random detritus she’d knocked onto the floor before easing her skirt back down. “I’ll be in touch.” They both know this could mean an hour or two weeks from now, but that’s how it goes with them. Kuvira gives up on the idea of taming her hair and decides to leave it loose, shouldering on her suit jacket and straightening it. Good lord, she’ll need to clean all of this up _and_ disinfect that chair before the board members arrive. 

Asami stoops to put her shoes back on before rising again, walking over to regard herself in the grand mirror hung between Kuvira’s bookshelves, wiping at her smudged lipstick, adjusting her bra beneath her shirt, running a quick hand through her hair, taming it. “Whatever,” she says breezily, giving herself one final look before nodding, satisfied. “Enjoy your meeting. And withdraw that fucking offer, or my lawyers will be in touch.” And then she’s tossing a heated gaze over her shoulder as she throws open Kuvira’s door and exits, heels clicking against the floor. 

A few minutes later, Kuvira’s phone flashes and beeps. “Ms. Beifong, the board members are on their way up. Shall I stall them for a few minutes?”

Zhu Li receives a bonus in her next paycheck.

**Author's Note:**

> so how fat do you think kuvira's HR violations file is


End file.
